


Bit by Bit

by ghoulaesthetics (astraielle)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/ghoulaesthetics
Summary: He is still quiet, but as she’s come to find, Thane doesn’t need to be loud to make himself heard.





	Bit by Bit

Initially, Shepard doesn’t stay because she finds him physically appealing in any way ( _she does_ ) but because he brings about a calming aura. 

Thane is quiet, often lost in meditation or prayer, she isn’t quite sure. But he doesn’t ask the questions the others do, doesn’t feel the need to fill the air with useless chatter. As far as she was concerned, people should have known better than to waste her time on such things, unless they wanted a taste of her sharp tongue. 

But he was good for simply  _being_ , and Lee found herself easily getting lost in the soft rhythm of the holy words, words that she didn’t recognize but held a strange comfort to her all the same. 

Of course, initially conversations needed to be had, because as much as she exorcized her power as Spectre Shepard, it would still have been a bit odd for her to simply hover around in his personal space without uttering a word. She didn’t find the talks unpleasant though. Thane’s view on life was something she found to be endlessly fascinating, removed yet in tune with the universe. He was deadly, that was for sure, but to the untrained eye, he was the picture of serenity. She found that fascinating too, especially as someone who preferred to wear her power openly on her sleeve. But then again, he didn’t have to spend every waking moment proving himself like she had. Perhaps that had something to do with it. 

And that was another thing she liked about the Drell--he didn’t actually expect anything from her, other than to be herself. Well, perhaps that granted him too much credit, she thought with a slightly bemused smile as she glanced over to where he was seated. Obviously, there was the expectation to end the Reaper War--but, that was something she expected even for herself. Other than that, though, he allowed her to be. And it was nice, to not have to deal with the constant looks of disproval or the horrified protests as she made an executive decision ( _not that it ever changed her mind)_. Shepard knew that he didn’t understand her fully, as it was impossible to completely understand another being by the very nature of being alive, but there was a decent grasp on her, her character and motivations. And in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, he allowed her to stay. 

It was awkward at first, as she often was when attempting any non-confrontational interactions, but somehow, through trial and error and a few misplaced jokes after stories of his late wife (she was trying, she really was, it just didn’t quite pan out the way she planned. And though she internally cursed herself, he at least had some humour about it, and she could breathe once more) he had actually managed to ease her discomfort, even pull a few laughs every so often. A level of pleasure that she hadn’t expected to find in an assassin, but she wasn’t about to deny it either. After all, she trusted her crew with her life, but there were few she would count as friends. It was an interesting apex to sit at, but one he understood. 

Which led her to her current position. They are sharing the couch in her quarters. He’s sitting cross-legged on the one end of the couch, silent and deep in whichever meditation he’s brought with him today. She started the evening pressed against the opposite end, not paying attention to the novel in her hands and often peeking out the corner of her eye at him. Unconsciously, she moved towards his place on the couch. Slowly, until she was very nearly pressed against him and could feel the heat radiating off his body. She wasn’t about to disturb him completely, but Shepard longed for more contact. 

It was still a fresh relationship if it could even be called that. Over the last few years she’d already opened herself up to one person, and being more naturally inclined to a cold and closed off attitude, she hadn’t expected much after that broke off. Thane was a surprise. He’d complimented her nature almost exactly, and falling into a pattern came without effort. But she hesitated to reach out still. It’d always been difficult for her, and the root of the problem was, of course, her fear of loss and abandonment ( _and the irony of falling in love with a dying man absolutely was not lost on her_ ) and she had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t have the opportunity to get better with time. But that was why she was here, wasn’t it? That lack of time being the thing that was finally driving her to reach out at all, and the finality of death, the certainty for him and the near-guarantee for her, acting as just one more tether to pull her in? 

It was. They both knew. Death was present, but it didn’t loom threateningly. Instead, it was warm, warm and final, and she pressed herself completely into him so she could feel its pulse under her skin even better. 

He cracked an eye open at her, a soft expression made upon seeing the way she fell into his shape. 

“You’ve been reading those same pages for nearly the whole hour,” he informs her, a slight teasing to his words. 

He felt the shrug more than he saw it. “Distracted.” It was hard, but there was mirth under the surface, if you knew where to look. 

“Oh? And by what, Siha?” He dropped his hands from the reverent position, weaving one arm around her sharp frame to pull her in even closer. 

She scoffed a little, knowing where this was going. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to say it’s you?” 

Now it was his turn to shrug. “It’s certainly not the dead fish in the tank.”

Her eyes followed his to the somewhat macabre sight. “Huh. I keep forgetting to flush those out. Remind me tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” He repeated, catching her jaw with his hand and turning her scarred face towards his. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to spend the night here?” 

It was hard to meet his eyes when he asked her directly, and the finality of the question, the veins of desire buried in the subtext made her cheeks burn. But she wasn’t about to baulk, not when it came to something she wanted this much. 

It was easier to answer with her body than her voice, and before another beat could pass she surged forward to capture his lips with hers. It was hard, needy and spoke more volumes than she could ever hope to articulate.  _I want you here, I need you to stay, please stay with me, don’t leave._

The side effects of kissing Drell would kick in soon, and reluctantly she pulled back before her head started to swim in a way she’d come to adore. She needed his answer still, after all, and it would be hard to hear that with her thighs sliding into his lap and her tongue in his mouth. 

The need in his eyes matched hers, and with little effort he’d swept her up completely onto him. “I’ll take that to mean a yes,” he whispered breathily, tickling her neck and sending a shiver through her body. 

He is still quiet, but as she’s come to find, Thane doesn’t need to be loud to make himself heard. 


End file.
